The Stone

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the stone invites me

offering in the hard, inert

presence of its form

all the living forces

            of creation




It calls out to me to touch it

to feel with my fingers

            the varied grains of its past

            growing lichens of its present

            crumbling future of its decay


to explore with my eyes

the mysteries of the gathering

            of primordial dusts

            compressions and convolutions

            that created its birth


to smell the ancient scents that

sun and winds can not extinguish

            of molten upwellings

            deep sea waters

            uplifted mountain peaks


to taste from my guts

the core of our connectedness

            the acidity of our stresses

            blandness of long repose

            sweet flavors of release


to hear with all my senses

the sounds civilization has lost

            the music of earth’s rhythms

            the cacophony of the universe

            the silence


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